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Mozart, 1935
par
Wallace Stevens
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Paroles
Poet, be seated at the piano Play the present, its hoo-hoo-hoo Its shoo-shoo-shoo, its ric-a-nic Its envious cachinnation If they throw stones upon the roof While you practice arpeggios It is because they carry down the stairs A body in rags Be seated at the piano That lucid souvenir of the past The divertimento; That airy dream of the future The unclouded concerto . . The snow is falling Strike the piercing chord Be thou the voice Not you. Be thou, be thou The voice of angry fear The voice of this besieging pain Be thou that wintry sound As of a great wind howling By which sorrow is released Dismissed, absolved In a starry placating We may return to Mozart He was young, and we, we are old The snow is falling And the streets are full of cries Be seated, thou
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